


The Journey Back

by Zams_Scribbles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala Lives, References to Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zams_Scribbles/pseuds/Zams_Scribbles
Summary: Darth Vader wins the duel on Mustafar. Now what?
Relationships: C-3PO & R2-D2, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 29
Kudos: 85





	1. The Duel

Skywalker and Kenobi, two halves of a single warrior. Intimidating apart, unstoppable together. Their sparring matches had always been the highlight of the season for the younglings at the temple. Often, younglings had nearly come to blows, arguing who was the stronger, some said Kenobi, others rallied for Skywalker. No one knew. Of course, it didn’t matter. They were at their best together. They were undefeatable. They were the heroes of the Order.

Now, the younglings were dead. They would never learn who was more powerful. Only one knew the truth. Darth Vader. He was more powerful than them all now. The council had sought to hold him back. Obi-Wan too. He was jealous. Vader had finally had enough, no one was ever going to restrain his power again. And now, here, at the Jedi’s end, only Obi-wan, his former Master, was left in his way. 

The battle had gone on long enough. The Jedi had put up an impressive fight, but it was time to finish things. Vader’s eyes traced the volcanic shoreline, up the dune of ash that his former Master had leapt to, judging the distance, the heat of the magma river a pitiful simulacrum of the rage burning within him.

Coward, Vader fumed internally. Obi-Wan had lost ground every exchange of the battle, too afraid to attack the student who had long since outgrown him, and now, did he plan to run? Vader would find him, there was no planet in the galaxy where Obi-wan could hide. The Jedi Master steadied himself on the crumbling shore, his face contorting to cautious self-assurance as he met the gaze of his fallen student.

“It’s over, Anakin! I have the high ground!” Obi-wan shouted. The Jedi spread his arms out, a challenge, daring his opponent to attack. Vader scowled, he hadn’t lost yet, if anything, it was over and Obi-wan had lost. The Sith twisted his head to the side, his eyes taking on the flaming color of the lava flow beneath him.

“You underestimate my power,” the young Sith Lord responded. Vader’s voice shook with intensity, his burning eyes never leaving the clear blue of Kenobi’s. Obi-wan shook his head.

“Don’t try it,” the Jedi returned. Another challenge then. Very well, the Sith Lord would accept. He leapt, his lightsaber trailing behind. Then, a warning. In his mind, Vader saw Obi-wan’s lightsaber swing upwards, the blade arching towards him, striking a near-fatal blow -- In response, he twisted mid-air, bringing his own lightsaber down against Kenobi’s to block the attack. He landed behind Obi-wan, the Jedi turning to begin their next exchange. 

For a shared heartbeat, time stopped for the two men. Obi-wan knew, as well as Vader, that he had left himself open and tried to compensate. Vader smirked. Too slow, old man, he thought. Time began again. Vader drove his saber through Obi-wan’s abdomen, the brilliant blade highlighting his master’s shocked grimace in a wash of blue light. Leaning in, Vader whispered, barely audible over the hum of the saber:

“Now I am the master.” 

He deactivated his weapon. Obi-wan’s legs faltered, his pain blending with sorrow.

“Only a master of evil, Anakin,” he gasped. Obi-wan’s lightsaber escaped him, rolling down the treacherous slope to the lava below. He collapsed, tightly clutching his former student’s tunic for support. The Sith looked down in contempt. Even now, Kenobi was lecturing him. Fine then, Vader would watch him break. Vader would watch the perfect Jedi lash out in anger, and it would prove the hypocrisy of the order that had failed him. His former Master hated him, he knew it. The Jedi Order had always hated him. As Obi-wan looked up at Vader, strength returned to the Jedi, for just a moment.

“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you,” he said and slumped to the smouldering ground. 

“Master?” It wasn’t fair! Vader thought. This wasn’t what he wanted. Betrayed, the last of the Jedi, and fatally wounded, Kenobi still would not break, wouldn’t give the young Sith Lord the satisfaction of revealing the deceit in those who followed the Light.

“I loved you,” Kenobi repeated, faintly. Then he was gone and Vader was left terribly alone. Instead of triumph, he felt despair. Obi-wan loved him. Waves of grief came too quickly to be held back by the fires of rage within his own heart. Obi-wan loved him. The anger that had sustained his rampage throughout the night drained away, leaving him with only horror. He knelt next to the body of his former friend, as hot tears ran inexplicably down his face. 

“Obi-wan. What have I done?” he shuddered. There was too much. There was Mace Windu, falling and falling to ten thousand feet below. Friends, colleagues, children at the temple; some killed by clones, most by his hand. And Obi-wan, his friend, a man he’d once considered a father, dead at his feet. And for what? He bowed his head. It was necessary. Sometimes to achieve peace, one had to be willing to do anything. Strike down anyone who would stand in his way. He had brought peace, just, he hadn’t considered the conflict that the action could create within. Guilt ran cold through him. Padme. He’d hurt her, misdirecting his fury at Kenobi’s betrayal at his wife. He hadn’t meant to. He had, just, lost control. That wouldn’t happen again. 

Vader took a step, preparing to make the mile-long return trip through the magma refinery to where his grueling battle had begun, but his guilt remained. He casted a look back towards the fallen form of his former master. The body looked pitiful, collapsed into a heap. An unfitting end for such a noble warrior. It felt wrong to leave him there. Obi-wan had often respectfully buried his fallen foes whenever the option presented itself and while Vader still thought it a waste of time on a common foot soldier, Kenobi was different. After a moment, he hoisted Obi-Wan’s body over his shoulders. There was no time for a proper burial now, Vader would lay his fallen foe to rest in another place. The young Sith Lord ran, ignoring that Obi-Wan’s body was turning cold; ignoring that a few days earlier he had carried his Master in the same fashion through a Seperatist battleship, desperate to save him; ignoring Sidious’s attempts to reach him through the Force. He only thought of reaching Padme.

Vader navigated through the carnage of Seperatist corpses he had left behind and onto the landing platform where Padme’s ship waited, it had been prepped for take-off. He could see C-3P0 standing just inside, speaking to what sounded like Artoo. His astromech must have wandered over, searching for its protocol droid counterpart.

“Artoo, don’t say things like that! I’m sure Master Kenobi and Master Anakin will return in just a moment!” Threepio cried. The astromech sounded unconvinced, Vader could hear him whistle softly.  
“Killed each other?! Now, Artoo-!” The protocol droid began. Artoo interrupted him with a sudden stream of upset blips.  
“Oh my goodness, yes, we mustn’t upset Mistress Padme,” the droid was quiet for a moment, then began again softly. “ You know I’m not sure what to do, Artoo. I don’t believe my programming ever meant for me to end up here.”  
Vader approached the ship’s hatch. He didn’t address Threepio’s startled exclamation at his sudden appearance, carrying the body of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Artoo was silent.

“Is the ship ready for take off, Threepio?” the Sith Lord said, after carefully laying Obi-Wan’s body across a bench.

“Yes, Master Anakin,” the droid replied cautiously.

“Then let’s leave this place,” he responded.

“I couldn’t agree more, sir,” the droid murmured, and made his way to the cockpit. Artoo whined softly. Vader followed his astromech to where Padme lay, breathing, but semi-conscious. He delicately placed his hand--his flesh-and-blood hand--on her forehead and Padme, the person he loved most in all the galaxy, opened her eyes and recoiled.

“Don’t touch me,” she said warily. Vader gently quieted her, ignoring her request. He attempted to sense her injuries through the Force and felt Padme begin to panic. She met his gaze, searching his eyes for an explanation. “You killed him, didn’t you?” she said. He quieted her again, brushing hair out of her face. His love’s eyes were filled with horror. He attempted a smile. She attempted to sit up and push him away, but he held her down, his durasteel arm clutching her shoulder. He bit back annoyance, he was trying to help her, why didn’t she see that? She seemed stable, there was internal bruising, but her trachea was in no danger of collapsing. He hadn’t hurt her. Much. Vader probed further, reaching out to their unborn child. Padme suppressed a cry as metal fingers clenched, digging into her shoulder. He could feel something, something different. Vader immersed himself in the Force, searching for the answer. He didn’t feel Padme gripping his arm in distress. This child was different. This child was...no, twins. Twins. They were having twins. Vader reached out to his children. They were so light in the Force, so powerful. Something cracked under his grip. They burned bright, like the twin suns of his homeworld. All at once, pain wrenched him from his focus, he fell to the ground. Vader could hear Padme gasping in pain. Artoo had rammed into his shin, hard. Turning, he saw that the little droid stood at his side, electro-prod primed. The droid whistled a query at his Mistress.

“Do it, Artoo,” she managed. 

“Artoo!” Vader spat out, attempting to rise off of the ground. The droid ignored him and discharged the electricity. Vader fell back to the floor, convulsing as the current ran through his body, and succumbed to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great job, Anakin...
> 
> All right! Chapter 1! I highly doubt this will be like a 50 chapter endeavor, but I'm having fun so we'll see how it goes.


	2. Reflection

Darth Vader awoke on a different floor. The Naboo cruiser had metallic floors, polished and smooth. The floor he found himself ungraciously sprawled upon was smooth, but particulate, covered in a layer of dust and dirt. The floor was not old, but had not been recently utilized. As feeling returned to his extremities, he rose to a seated position, shaking off the dust, dirt, and volcanic ash that had accumulated in his long hair. A light buzzing noise drew his attention to his hands. An energy beam bound them together. He stared in confusion a moment, until, all at once, his senses fully returned from unconsciousness and he became aware of the prison cell in which he currently resided. Still disoriented and confused Vader rose to his feet and moved to the entrance of the cell, peering out the golden-tinted ray shield that blocked his path. The opposing cells were empty and the eerie quiet of the entire block suggested that he was the only prisoner. There were, however, guards. Standing just at the corner of Vader’s sight were Senator Bail Organa and a diminutive Jedi, Master Yoda.

Confusion dissipated and realization set in, followed swiftly by anger. He had been given up--Vader wheeled around and stalked the length of his cell--and Organa had decided to throw his lot in with the Jedi. Then, Vader decided, he would die like the rest of them. He returned to the ray shield and hammered his bound fists against the door frame, metal clanging against metal. The Senator jumped at the echoing clamor, but cautiously approached the cell. Master Yoda hadn’t flinched, but kept his distance. The Sith Lord drew himself up and stood face to face with the Senator, the glow of the ray shield casting golden light across them. 

“Where is Padme?” he snarled. This time, Bail did not flinch.

“She is safe. Alive and away from you.” The Senator’s gaze flicked to and from the floor. The proud, stoic, and celebrated public speaker was consumed with anxiety. Recent events had shaken him. The bold voice that had so often commanded the Senate floor sounded so tired.

“Where?” Vader was insistent, the Force grew tenser.

“If you must know, Skywalker, she is being treated for her injuries. The ones you inflicted upon her” Bail responded curtly. The patient diplomacy that had so perfectly complemented Padme’s bold strategy in politics was wearing thin. Vader pressed a finger against the energy field that restrained him.

“I am capable of far worse.” The Sith Lord drew back, his threat hanging in the air. Master Yoda took this time to approach. 

“Never in question, young Skywalker, was your capacity for greatness. Unexpected, however, is your capacity for evil.” Vader turned away from his guards. They had betrayed him. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to hurt them, to find a response that would cut them as deep as any blade.

“Obi-wan is dead.” he snarled, but his voice still cracked with emotion, “I outgrew him. I’ve outgrown the Jedi. Nothing will hold me back.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in, then went on. “The Emperor will soon come to finish you, Master Yoda, and when he does, the final remnants of Order will be swept away... and forgotten.” Yoda nodded solemnly, but a hint of humor danced across his features.

“Mmmmm. Met with your new Master I have. Finish me, he could not.” A light chuckle escaped the wizened Jedi. The Light was dimmed in the Galaxy, but he knew it could never die. Vader said nothing.. The pair was whispering behind him, he turned his head, catching a few of their exchanges:

“Manage him alone I can, attend to-”

“Padme, is she-”

“In time, see we will.” 

Vader turned around sharply at the mention of Padme’s name. The whispering came to an abrupt halt. After a moment, the Senator politely bowed and departed. The Sith Lord was left alone with the Grand Master of the order he had so violently renounced. Vader wanted to demand to see his wife, to go to her side. If the Senator had lied, if Padme had been hurt… But he said nothing, he would not give the Jedi Master anything but impassive contempt.  
The Jedi’s gaze weighed on him. He braced for a lecture, for Yoda to decry the unforgivable sins of the young Sith Lord. None came. Instead, Yoda began to meditate.

“Come sit, will you?” he said, “unless, to meditate together, wrong it is for Sith and Jedi.” While it was highly probable that this had never been suggested before in Galactic history, Vader was disheveled. He needed to rest. Not gracing the Jedi Master with a response, the Sith Lord assumed a seated position and attempted to settle his mind, to regain control over the feelings of guilt and fear that were weakening him.  
After a time, Vader lost himself in meditation, allowing the Force to guide him. He saw himself on a balcony, in the meditative grove atop the Jedi Temple. The sun was rising over the Coruscanti skyline, warming the stone ledge beneath his hands. At his side, were his friends. His Padawan, Ahsoka Tano, smiled at him bittersweetly.

“Won’t be the same around here without you, Skyguy,” she said. Anakin felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to face Obi-wan.

“Indeed,” his Master said, “perhaps the Order will finally manage a good night of sleep now the mechanics bay that you call your quarters has been shut down.” Obi-wan smiled and added, “I will miss you, old friend.” Anakin grinned and shook his head.

“The Council can’t get rid of me that easily. They still have to add me into the Lost 20. I’ll be haunting the Jedi Archives for millennia,” he said.

“You know, one thing Dooku did for the Order, at least he evened out the number of busts in the Archives when he left. Now you've gone and messed it up again,” Ahsoka pointed out.

“Just like me to do that, huh?” Anakin laughed.

“Oh, I'm sure Madame Jocasta will be livid.” added Obi-wan. 

There was a mournful tension over the trio, not knowing what the future would bring, but a brightness, nonetheless. An old era had ended and a new one had begum. The war was over, the Separatists defeated, and Anakin had chosen a new path, one away from the Jedi, alongside his love, but no matter what the Force would always bind the trio together. No matter how far apart, Anakin’s friends would always be with him.

Vader awoke, hatred twisting in his heart. The Sith Lord could feel the dichotomy of the Force energies they had summoned colliding around them, Dark battling against Light. The Light Side was taunting him with the dreams he had once had, before the war had torn them apart. He could not meditate, the whirlpool created by the unnatural connection between Sith and Jedi was impossible to ignore, yet Yoda remained in blissful meditation, one with the Force. A peaceful smile graced the Jedi Master’s ancient features. The disturbance was too much of a distraction for Vader and yet, Yoda remained at peace. Content, perhaps, to exist within the Force, rather than control it. Darth Vader thought of crushing the blissful Jedi’s windpipe. At this, Yoda gave a small, croaking laugh and opened his eyes.

“The chill of the Dark Side, I care not for. Perhaps better separated, our meditations would be.” At this, diminutive Jedi rose to his feet and prepared to leave.  
Vader wanted to remain silent. He wanted to remain impassive, but fear ran through his heart. He clenched his bound hands.

“Wait.” Vader said. He saw Yoda’s ears twitch.  
“Is Padme here?” he asked, “Is she alright?”

Yoda sighed, “Resting the Senator is. Yes, rest we all need.” The Jedi hobbled away, more tired than he had ever been in his long life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin Skywalker, Maker of Bad Decisions, continues to live up to all expectations.


	3. Amidala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé must face the overnight destruction of all she knew, and fight on.

In a medical facility a few kilcks away, Padme was anything but resting. A short while after jumping to hyperspace, Padme had gone into labor. With a broken shoulder; Anakin, her Ani, unconscious but dangerously unstable; and confronted with the sudden loss of not just her friend Obi-Wan, but the entirety of the Republic she had devoted her life to; Padme was utterly distraught and certainly not prepared to deliver children by herself. Thankfully, she found that she was not alone. C-3P0 was the most maternal being she had ever met and R2-D2 was a calming presence amidst the sudden upheaval of her galaxy. Threepio quickly found a nearby planetary system to seek medical aid on and Artoo got her in contact with Bail and Master Yoda whom she explained the quickly unraveling situation to, in-between gasping breaths. The Senator and the Jedi expressed their anxieties and wished her well, promising to leave immediately for Polis Massa. During the flight, both droids stayed at her side, offering what words of advice they could. While they did not share her biology, in this moment she would not trade the presence of her dear friends for anyone else in the galaxy.

The trip went smoothly. Padme continued to breathe, though the contractions in her body were increasing in duration and intensity. She had lost everything in one night, but she had a duty to rebuild it. She would not give in, no matter how much she wanted too. The mounting fears spurred on by her husband’s prophetic dreams would not overcome her now. Upon landing, she found that her colleague Bail Organa and Jedi Master Yoda had just arrived before her. Both took in the chaotic scene awaiting them in the ship, but it was little in comparison to the horror Bail had witnessed briefly at the Jedi Temple or the callous destruction that Master Yoda had seen strewn about its halls. Threepio and Artoo tried not to interfere in the feeling of fresh grief that filled the quarters.

“The medical facility is aware of our situation,” said Bail, ”help should arrive shortly, Padme, just hold on.” He offered a weak smile, exhaustion weighing on his features. Padme nodded with a grimace as labor pains contorted her body. Bail stood helplessly, looking about the cockpit, his hands stiff at his sides. “I should make arrangements for Master Kenobi’s body,” the Senator said suddenly and to no one in particular, “and see if there are any prison facilities for Skywalker.” Padme nodded again and Bail quickly went to his tasks, burying his grief with distraction. Master Yoda remained, mourning over the fallen form of Obi-wan Kenobi. Facing the Jedi, perhaps the sole survivor of his Order, Padme felt guilt rise up within her. Anakin had done this for her. If she had been stronger, if she had realized the warning signs, if she and Anakin had never met, then Anakin wouldn’t have done this, then maybe the Chancellor’s plot would have been stopped, then maybe everything would have been alright. She allowed herself to cry, these tears felt deeper, a true sorrow. They were more than the shock she had felt at the burning of the Temple, or at the realization of what Anakin had become.

“I’m so sorry,” Padme whispered, the pain of labor amplifying the anguish in her voice. Yoda turned, his face falling upon seeing her tears. 

“No, no, your fault this is not.” He offered a hand and Padme took it for support. “Understand, blame yourself, you cannot. Not yours to bear are the choices young Skywalker has made. Fear of loss, attachment, drove him down this path, not his compassion for you. Mmmmmmm, much more blame have I to bear, the power to protect young Skywalker from the Chancellor I had. Complacent had the Council become, never did we consider the patience of the Dark Side, how deep their roots had grown.” 

Yoda sighed, his ears drooping. He turned to where Kenobi’s body lay. Though the noble Jedi’s tunic was scorched and burned, Kenobi’s gentle elegance remained. “Sent him to his death I did. Strong was his love for Skywalker, strike him down, he never could.” 

Padme didn’t want to let go of her own guilt. It was far easier to blame herself, to pretend that she might have had the power to change what happened, that she had any control at all over the events that had destroyed her reality. She imagined Yoda’s guilt came from a similar place.

A medical capsule arrived a few minutes later to transport Padme to a delivery room. The contractions were excruciating now, pain twisting itself along her lower back and abdomen. Droids began to swarm her, running preliminary medical exams, checking vital signs, the stimulus overwhelming. Padme wanted to scream, from pain, from anger, just to let out all the emotions she had buried for so long. So she did. She was not the Senator at this moment. She was not the Queen. For the first time in years, she let down all the walls, and faced her pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padmé lives AU all the way, she's gonna wreck palpatine with her own two hands


	4. Twins

Hours later, heart monitors beeping steadily around her, Padmé held her newborn daughter in her arms. Bail stood at her side, holding her son. Luke, she had named him. The boy was asleep. The girl in Padmé’s arms stared at her with wide eyes, already trying to make sense of her new world. 

“Leia,” Padmé whispered, marveling at the infant child. She cradled the child carefully, supporting her as best she could with one arm bound in bacta wrappings. Her shoulder had been nearly shattered by Anakin’s mechanical strength. Heavy bruising creeped along her neck and chest. A medic droid hovered close by. By all accounts, Padmé, as well as her twin children, were stable and healthy.

Many times during the night she had wanted to give up. Her heart had been shattered a thousand times over. The peace of death would have been a welcome release from the mental and physical torment she had endured throughout her life, now intensified by the sudden total collapse of all support around her. Strangely, she had found the will to carry on through her grief. Perhaps Padmé would’ve allowed herself to die had Obi-wan survived, knowing her children would not be alone. But he hadn’t, and now Padmé found herself dealing with her grief in the way she always had, by taking the injustice of it all head on. Her pain was already being cemented away under the sense of duty that had been strong within her since her days as queen. She had always promised herself that one day her work would be complete, that she would be able to return to Naboo, to go home. Not yet, but someday. That hope kept her going. That hope had been renewed by the birth of her children.

“Leia,” Padmé whispered again, softer. She was smiling. Luke and Leia. The name, Luke, had been Padmé’s contribution. Leia: Anakin’s. He had met a being with the name during one of the countless battles of the Clone Wars. That Leia had been a part of a local militia, assisting the Republic forces in routing the Separatists and, while that Leia’s fate had been unknown to Anakin, the name had stuck with him. 

Bail’s voice drew Padmé’s attention away from her newborn daughter. She turned her head as best she could in the uncomfortable medical capsule to look at him.

“Here, let me hold her too. You need rest, Padmé.” He said.

“We all need rest, Bail.” Padmé’s response was automatic, one she had often given to Bail whenever he had kindly offered that they let the continued planning for a possible Senate bill alone for the night. 

“Yes, and right now we all have the rare opportunity to get some. You should take it.”

Padmé could see an intense worry behind his tired eyes. She relented, placing young Leia into Bail’s arms. Both twins wriggled, nestled into the soft fabrics of his Alderanni tunic, as Bail gently cradled them. He and Padmé shared a brief smile; two small glimmers of life amongst untold death.

Bail sighed and began to walk away, readjusting his hold on the twins to keep them secure as they moved about. Padmé listened to his footsteps as he departed and noted when they stopped a moment later.  
“Do get some rest, Padmé. We’re all going to need you. I do believe we’re merely in the eye of the hurricane.” Then he was gone.

Inaction was suffocating to Padmé. Laying still, she all could feel was the ache of her lower body, the sharp, throbbing pain in her shoulder, and the memory of Anakin’s phantom grip on her throat. 

Padmé did rest, but found only more turmoil in her dreams. She saw herself, a young queen once again, watching as the Trade Federation marched on her world. But now. But now there were no Jedi. There were never any Jedi. She was alone. There was only her. Only Padmé stood between her world and the oncoming storm. There was only her. She had so much work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, now padmé's stuck in the hospital for a bit before she can start phase one of her new plan to dropkick sheev palpatine across the universe


	5. The Future

Days passed and Padmé Amidala regained her strength. A few days more and her arm would be fully healed. It would be like nothing had ever happened. In fact, from what news Padmé had gathered from searching the holonet, it seemed like the galaxy at large was quite content in acting as though the Clone Wars had never occurred. Not a word had been spoken on the Jedi since the public had been informed of their betrayal and subsequent destruction. Palpatine had so skillfully puppeteered the war. He had created such a brutal, devastating, hopeless conflict, that the people would accept any situation as an improvement over the war. That included the loss of their freedom. At the galaxy’s center, however, by keeping the war centered in the outer rim, fought by a clone army, rather than by a conscripted populace, the general apathy among the majority was high. Thus the grand and elite population of Coruscant and other Core worlds were primed to forget the war after its end. They had not been personally scarred by it as countless Outer Rim worlds had, it had simply been a discomfort. And who would want to face up to discomfort any longer than they were legally required to. Palpatine had won. He had won a long time ago. When apathy had taken hold of the Senate, when Padmé’s colleagues no longer cared, that was when the Republic had died.

Padmé also noted that no specific mention of Anakin, or rather Darth Vader had been made. Yoda had mournfully corrected her on his title when she had inquired as to her husband’s condition. She understood Anakin was dangerous. There was no pretence in her mind as to the severity of his actions. She would not excuse these crimes out of pity as she had Anakin’s slaughter of the Tusken Raiders. However, Padmé’s judgement refused to accept that Anakin’s turn to darkness had consumed him. Darkness had not taken over, Anakin had made a choice to pursue it. There was no Vader, there was only Anakin, and what he had done.

But no, no mention of Anakin had been made in the holonet to the public. Nor had any mention of him occurred in the morning senatorial briefings her handmaidens had forwarded to her. By her own instruction, Padmé’s handmaidens had informed the Senate of her absence, saying that a medical emergency had wailayed her return after a short trip to Naboo. No need to spell it out, the Senate was not blind, and keeping her medical emergency vague would only fan the flames surrounding the rumor of pregnancy. And perhaps it would help quench any suspicions of Rebellion.

Though tempting, Bail and Padmé had agreed that they could not flee into exile like Master Yoda. Perhaps, if they played along, were model servants of the newly born Empire, then they could destroy it from within. Or, perhaps they would be discovered and executed, but both agreed that fighting the good fight in secret would be preferable to hiding in fear. They had not, however, agreed on what to do about Anakin, nor the twins for that matter.

“Kept secret, they must be. Powerful they may become. Seek them out the Emperor will.” Yoda’s clawed hands were folded by his mouth, eyes closed, deep in thought.

“Palpatine wouldn’t dare, the children of a prominent Senator? He would look paranoid, weak. How could he just accuse children of having Jedi heritage?” Padmé said. They, along with Bail, were seated around a table in Organa’s ship, seeking privacy.

“Accidents happen frequently on Coruscant, Padmé, you know that. Not to mention, there’s a thousand bounty hunters out there, plenty with personal vendettas, that would be happy to kidnap your children. Or worse.” Bail was very still, hands folded in his lap, eyes directed at whomever he was speaking to. He looked regal, as royalty he was.

“Yes. Yes, I am very, very aware of that, Bail, but I will not live my life in fear. I have those I can trust, I can defend myself, and I can defend my children.” Padmé, by comparison, looked like a predator about to strike. She was still, but the kind of stillness that anticipated a pounce. Her hands were clenched, her eyes like daggers. This was the kind of queen that lived within her, the queen who, at fourteen, had overthrown a chancellor and beaten back a planetary invasion with utter surety. Now that queen was being set loose against her friends.

“Padmé…”

“I will not give up my children.” Every word was a command on its own.

At this, Bail gave in, he had not the energy to further battle with a colleague. Yoda, who had been chasing a thread in the Force, opened his eyes and spoke.

“If left unhidden, these children are, their fate, death will not be. A danger to the Emperor, yes, these children are. Perhaps the greatest hope of the Jedi, they are. Just as young Skywalker once was,” Yoda gave a pensive sigh. Padme could feel the weight of the wizened Jedi’s gaze on her. He continued, “No, their fate, death will not be. Groomed they will be, to serve darkness. Corrupted will they be, manipulated into tools of the Emperor, like their father.”

“I will not allow that to happen, Master Yoda.”

“Strong you are, Senator, but alone, can no one defeat the Dark Side.”

When Padmé spoke, it was no longer in the voice of the Queen.

“I can’t lose them too.” She said, quietly.

Padmé saw the faces of her friends fall. The tension between them was broken, and their shared grief swelled again. She sighed. She had to be strong, for everyone. She had to let go.

“Where must they go?” The room brightened a bit, happy to make plans for the future, happy to focus on any time but the present. Bail quickly had an offer.

“I will take the girl. My wife and I have always talked about adopting a baby girl. She will be loved with us,” he said, before adding, “She would remain close to you, Padmé.” Padmé returned the thought with a smile, but shook her head hesitantly.

“Too close, perhaps. My child is stillborn and my closest confidant adopts an infant? Palpatine would suspect something.”

“Palpatine would have had little reason to follow the House of Alderaan closely, perhaps a few dates are changed here and there?” 

In the end, they all agreed Bail would take in Leia. That left Luke. The idea of sending him to Padmé’s family on Naboo was proposed, but discarded. Her family had met Anakin, her Jedi bodyguard at the time. They had likely already assumed the truth. To then offer Padmé’s son would endanger her mother and father greatly, as well as her sister’s own young family. They were too much in the public eye to avoid the wrath of the Emperor. 

It was decided that Luke would be sent to Tatooine, to his family there. Padmé had met the Lars family only briefly, but they had been kind. The family of moisture farmers had opened their home to her and Anakin, and they had all mourned the death of Shmi Skywalker together.

Yoda agreed to see that Luke remained safe during his time on Tatooine. Perhaps the Jedi Master’s species would appear out of place in the human-dominated moisture farming community, but Tatooine was a land of wanderers, few people asked questions. And so the future of the twins were left secure. They would be kept safe in secret until the Empire fell or until they were old enough to join the fight themselves.

Until then, the small group of allies had a traitor within their midst that needed to be considered. They had a Sith Lord to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more chapters? maybe three?


	6. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star-crossed lovers now find themselves mortal enemies.

Upon entering the cell block, Padmé noticed first that the emergency power had been activated. The backup system cast red, low-energy light across the whole of the prison complex. Shadows were darker now, unable to be fully chased away by the ominous red glow. Even more ominous was the silence, broken up by the whirring of patrol droids as they made their rounds. The uninhabited cell block had previously felt nearly identical to the maternity ward: sterilized, with a bluish tint and the nonstop hum of various machines. The only difference had been the ray-shielded entrances. Now, as Padmé’s lone footsteps echoed through the hall, it felt eerily similar to late nights she had spent working in the Senate Building. While her personal security detail was never far away, childish fears always played at her mind during the lonely walk from her office to Captain Typho’s rendezvous point. Captain Typho. Padmé wished he was here now. He had requested to accompany the Senator on her secret mission to Mustafar, but she had brushed him off, knowing that Anakin would surely keep her safe.

When she reached the single occupied cell in the block, Anakin had his back to the door.

“What do you wish to hear from me now, Organa? That I relished in striking down Kenobi? That you will soon join him after I execute you for treason?” he said. There was no warmth in his voice. It was hollow and authoritarian. Padmé recognized it instantly. She stayed silent. Wires and bent metal lie in a pile just inside the cell. Apparently, unwilling to sit still, Anakin had attempted to take out the power grid. He had succeeded too. Fortunately, Padmé thought, security did not run off of the main system. Anakin snarled. “If you have nothing to say, Senator, then leave me in peace.” When he heard no departing footsteps, he turned. His expression brightened immediately. It was horrifying. “Padmé!” His voice was again filled with joy. It was warm and loving, a promise of forever within itself.

“Anakin.” Her voice cracked. She couldn’t help it. Anakin ran to the cell door that divided them. He placed a hand on the ray shield, a smile softening the harsh shadows that had fallen over his features as the Clone War had dragged on. Padmé raised her hand to meet his. She searched his eyes and found her husband. “It’s alright. I’m safe. The babies too, they’re safe and healthy and beautiful and...we’re alive.” Anakin didn’t quite seem to hear her words.

“I was so worried, they... they wouldn’t tell me anything. They were keeping you from me,” Anakin still smiled wistfully, tracing the outline of his wife’s face along the ray-shield. “I love you so much, Padmé.” He said.

LIAR.

“We can go away now. Just us. Where nobody will ever find us.” He said.

YOU’RE WITH HIM.

“To the lake in Naboo. Just us. Just our love. The whole galaxy can be ours.”

YOU BROUGHT HIM HERE TO KILL ME.

Padmé took a step backwards. Anakin’s expression twisted. Just for a moment. She could taste bile in her throat. To imagine Anakin dead, consumed by darkness, would be a blessing, but this unrepentant monster was Anakin. It was, undoubtedly, her Anakin.

“Padmé, listen to me…”

“NO!” The anger came on like the first crack before an avalanche. She struggled to form the oncoming storm into ammunition rather than devastation, “No. You listen. Our love has destroyed us. Just as we knew it would. There’s nothing left, Anakin. If you ran now, your Empire would hunt us down-”

“Then join me and together-”

“-And if I joined you, I would die! A traitor to all, but above all a traitor to myself!” The fire in Padmé’s heart, the one that had tempered her to steel in the Senate, burned like a bonfire. “How can you do it, Anakin? How can you turn your back on everything you fought for? Slaughter those who believed in you, trusted you! And for what? Power? Control? Obi-wan was like a father to you! He loved you!” Words were Padme’s weapons. No matter how deadly her aim with a blaster, only her words would make the galaxy listen. Anakin’s smile was gone. He slammed his fists against the ray-shield.

“OBI-WAN BETRAYED ME!” His voice shaking with rage, lashing with a desperate desire to control. Padmé backed into the wall behind her.

“Goodbye, Anakin,” was all she said. She walked away.

“Wait.” It was a bit of a growl, but with unmistakable fear. Padmé turned. “Padmé, I love you. Everything I’ve done I’ve done to protect you.” He paused. A look of confusion passed over his face. Anakin began to ramble. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you, I-I’m just, I lashed out, I’m just under a lot of stress right now. This isn’t me, you know that. I would do anything for you, Padmé, anything. You know that. I would die for you, Padmé.” He said. The kind, sheepish smile had returned. Padmé closed her eyes against the swelling of emotions in her chest.

“Then die,” she said, “go face your Emperor and die.” She didn’t trust herself to look back until she had exited the prison complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padmé says, "Then Perish."


	7. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The body of Obi-wan Kenobi is returned to the Force

The galaxy had continued to turn for one standard week since Obi-wan’s passing. What Padmé would give for another of his warm smiles as he offered her advice, and ‘perhaps some tea, milady?’ They had been close, not only through their mutual caring for Anakin, but they had found solace in each other after the death of Qui-gon Jinn at the Battle of Naboo, the first adventure that they had shared together. 

Now, like his Master before him, it was time to lay the body of Obi-wan Kenobi to rest. Necessity meant that Obi-wan would not have the funeral he had deserved after a life of good and sacrifice. Only six beings out of the thousands he had met, out of the millions whose lives he had saved would bear witness to this final return to the Force. It was some comfort, however, that there was no one Obi-wan would rather have at his funeral than the party that had gathered by the cremation chamber.

It was no sacred pyre, it was mechanical and efficient. Its purpose was to reduce carbon into ash and it did that just fine. Already, the body of Kenobi had been covered with a sheet. Just outside the chamber were three humans, two droids, and one ancient creature too old to recall just what exactly he was. One of the humans, tall, robed in black, was bound in restraints. His hands were concealed entirely within container-like shackles; a collar around his neck held the potential to shock him into unconsciousness if he became aggressive. A mask adorned the lower half of his face, restricting speech as his eyes stared dispassionately at the body of his former Master, but his gaze had not once left Kenobi’s still form since Vader had first laid eyes on it. 

Vader had not been disturbed since Padmé’s visit, spending the hours in meditation, restoring himself, yet never quite sleeping. He had been in this state when he again felt footsteps echo through the hall. Remaining utterly still, he had listened, hearing hushed tones which he recognized as Bail Organa and his wife’s. When the footsteps neared, one eye opened in forcefully-casual curiosity. In reality, his emotions had reached boiling point. With no outlet, with no victim on which to cast blame, no one to hurt but himself, Vader’s chest felt restricted by the building intensity. When a figure finally stepped into Vader’s view from within the cell, only Organa was there. Padmé had evidently chosen to remain out of sight.

“Obi-wan Kenobi is being put to rest today,” Organa’s voice was even, his eyes still so tired, “Thought it is against my better judgement, we would have you join us in honoring his memory. Under guard.” Vader’s brows raised in surprise, a question forming on his lips.

“I killed him.” He said.

“Yes.” Bail responded with a heavy sigh.

“And yet, you would have me join you?” It was genuine, not the drippingly sarcastic cynicism that he had shown to Bail earlier.

“It is your choice but, I cannot imagine that Master Kenobi would have had it any other way.” When Vader did not respond, Bail turned to leave.

“When is it?” Vader had forced himself to ask, his gaze to the floor as if the offer burned just a bit too brightly to face head-on.

Now, at the megre funeral, it seemed everything burned. Vader could find no escape from the conflict within him here. Despite the pain it caused him, he found himself unable to look away from Obi-wan’s body. Not two years ago he had attended another funeral for Obi-wan. His Master’s death had been staged without Anakin’s knowledge for an undercover mission. Vader remembered the hatred in his heart that day, his thoughts consumed, not with Obi-wan, but with what the vengeful Jedi would do to the man that had killed his closest friend, his brother.

Tears threatened as they had by the side of that lava shore. The cremation had begun, the fire burning away the fatal wounds dealt by Vader’s hands. This time it was real, Obi-wan was gone.

Padmé stood wordlessly next to Anakin, she had cast him only a glance when he had entered the room, flanked by Bail Organa and a trio of security droids, ensuring that his bonds looked tight before turning her attention away. He had moved to stand at her side and she had let him. Bail looked to her, speaking without words as they often had in the Senate, implying the question: ‘Is this alright?’ Padmé nodded imperceptibly and Bail let it be, taking his place next to Master Yoda who stood solemn and silent. Artoo and Threepio stood by as well, talking quietly amongst themselves. Threepio was wistful, speaking softly of the fallen Jedi’s bravery and astonishing compassion, even to droids. Padmé could not understand Artoo’s binary language, but the mournful whines required no translation. The pair looked close, finding solace in one another. No distance seemed able to separate them. 

The fire continued to burn, taking the body of Obi-wan Kenobi with it. No speeches were made, no prayers, only reflection and memory. Distantly, Padmé became aware of an absence. Ahsoka was not here. Just days ago, Anakin had excitedly told Padmé of their reunion, how the war would soon be over, and how Ahsoka would soon come home. Anakin had given her half his battalion, under the command of his Captain, Rex. Padmé hoped they were far, far away, perhaps able to catch wind of the plot before its execution. Those men trusted Ahsoka with their lives. Rex had been as much of a mentor to her as Anakin. They couldn’t betray her, they couldn’t.

The fire would burn for another three hours. The congregation came and went, tending to things as needed, then returning to mourn. Only Anakin remained still, never taking his gaze from the flames. Master Yoda also stayed, falling into meditation. As the hours passed, Anakin only fell deeper into sorrow. Vader could find no solace, no reprieve from the torment within his heart. His body felt weak beneath him, threatening collapse. He did not recognize the agonized lament forming in his throat as his own until it was audible above the restrictive mask. Only Master Yoda was there to catch him when Vader fell to his knees. Unchecked tears streamed down his face as the wail turned to choking sobs. Empathy struck the wizened Jedi. With a gesture, the mask fell away, followed by the bonds, and Vader’s screams echoed through the halls. There was no comfort Yoda could give, all he could do was stay by the side of the young man who had destroyed the Jedi’s entire culture, his family.

“Master Yoda,” Vader managed, his voice trembling, “What have I done?” Yoda said nothing. There was nothing to say. There was no excuse, no justification for his actions. Yet if the fallen Jedi asked, Yoda would forgive him.

Padmé Amidala and Bail Organa came running, alerted by Anakin’s pitiful wails. Bail froze as he saw the fallen Jedi on his knees, bonds cast aside. Padmé managed several more steps before stopping herself.

“I’m so lost,” she heard Anakin say, “So afraid.” He said. Yoda nodded, his eyes closing, sorrowful understanding on his face. “I’m in agony,” Anakin continued, “Please, Master, take it away, end this.” 

His hands covered his face, tangled into hair. The sobs continued, as minutes passed. Yoda outstretched a gnarled hand, kindly resting it on Anakin’s arm. The shaking form began to quiet. Padmé approached, kneeling down next to the man she had once loved, finding his hand buried in the curls of hair, feeling its warmth. She brought her head to rest against Anakin’s. What peace the ancient Jedi and the young Senator had, they willed it to pass into Anakin. Finally, Anakin stilled, bringing his hands away. His blue eyes were swollen, red from crying. He could not make himself meet either of their concerned faces.

“I’m so sorry.” Anakin whispered. Padmé wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his hair.

“I love you.” She managed.

“I-I love you, Padmé,” Anakin gasped, “So much.” He raised to his knees, finally, finally meeting Padmé’s gaze.

“I love you.” He repeated. Padmé brought a hand to his cheek; they embraced, tears of relief now running down both their faces. “I’m so sorry, I hurt you, I hurt everyone who loved me--everyone I loved.” Anakin whispered, his eyes tightly closed against the world. Only after the couple had memorized the touch of the other against their skin and the feeling within them in this exact moment did they finally part. Anakin turned to Yoda, the ancient Jedi looked up at him with a misty sort of scrutiny.

“What can I do, Master?” Anakin asked, emphasizing every word. Yoda took his gaze to the floor.

“Undo what you have done, you cannot, young Skywalker.” Deliberately, his eyes raised once more to meet Anakin’s, “But stop the horror, you still can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooooooof,,,, i am feeling,,,, three more chapters left! 
> 
> Forgiveness
> 
> The Coup
> 
> The End
> 
> searth99 I want u to know that ur support alone have given me the energy to make this home stretch!


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